a banshee alone in a graveyard
by moneymatrimony
Summary: "You could marry Malia and have her half-genius half-coyote puppies and I would be a bridesmaid and a godmother if you want, I don't care. But I miss being able to talk to you about things that scare me because I feel so alone and I've never felt so alone in my whole life." A little before 4x01. No real plot. Just if Jeff Davis won't write the pack grieving I will. Also on AO3.


**A BANSHEE ALONE IN A GRAVEYARD**

* * *

"It's a good movie!" there was laughter and Stiles could hear Kira wrestling Scott for the remote.

He peeked in. Malia was sitting on the floor and observing them: how they laughed and pulled on each other to watch the movie neither of them really cared about anymore. Stiles grabbed the Doritos and plopped on the chair next to the couple.

"It's called play-fighting." he explained to her, wiggling his eyebrows. "And more often than not, it leads to sex."

Kira managed to grab the remote from Scott and change the channel back to her movie. Stiles shook his head as Scott gave in and dutifully wrapped an arm around Kira, who curled into him. The gang was all here. And also...someone else was missing. Malia rested her head on Stiles knee. Stiles couldn't help but smile. However, he felt it waver after a minute. He couldn't shake this bad feeling.

"Scott," he said, during a commercial break. "Do you know where Lydia is?"

Kira looked at Scott as his friend cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable. Stiles' eyebrows furrowed.

"It's the 14th, dude." He was still confused but he also saw that it made Scott uneasy but he didn't want to press it further. However, Malia didn't seem to care all too much about Scott's uneasiness, if she even noticed. She grabbed a handful of Doritos and munched.

"What the hell happens on the 14th?" she asked, not even making eye contact. Scott looked like he wouldn't be able to look at her anyway.

"Um, every 14th of the month, Lydia goes to visit Allison's grave." Kira answered for him, grabbing his hand.

...

A banshee alone in a graveyard late at night, how fitting. It was actually late, really late. Later than usual. She had a lot to tell Allison this time. Lydia wiped her eyes as she entered her car. But it didn't help. She was still crying. And she didn't know who to call to make this better. Allison was dead. Without a doubt. There was no possible way to resurrect her. No matter how many bad guys get to come back and walk all over her, Allison's death had a pronounced finality that lingered over her since the day they buried her, right next to her mother and her aunt. The Argent women were essentially defeated.

Allison always used to be vibrating with life and the energy around her seemed to be palpable. It was freeing. It was exciting. It liberated her, just being around her best friend liberated her from all the bullshit, all the werewolves, all the murders, all of the emotions surrounding being the one finding the dead bodies. She could see her now. Her tombstone had read her name, "beloved daughter and friend", her birthday to the day they pronounced her dead, and her code: _Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger._

Lydia remembers sobbing so hard during the eulogy that Stiles instinctively reached for her, rubbing her back and telling her it was going to be okay, that they were all going to be okay, that they would all never forget Allison and then he started tearing up too. Now that she thinks about it, that was probably not just for her but for him as well. Because he, essentially, killed her. No one blamed him for her death, but for him the fact remains that the Oni was controlled by the Nogistune, which was him. Him comforting her had to be about him wanting to comfort himself because as of late, she's been feeling like Stiles couldn't care less for her.

It had partly to do with Malia, but more to do with the whole getting possessed thing. It changed him and his entire outlook on life, as to be expected. He'd killed people, innocent people, of course he would be a different person. She didn't blame him, she couldn't blame him. It wasn't his fault. But God, it hurt all the same, not having a best friend anymore. Not having someone who cared when she was scared. Someone to calm her down when she really needed it because sometimes it was just so hard to turn off the panic and the paranoia when you can fucking sense the death of others. Someone she can trust or rely on. Someone who valued her as much as she did them. That was the whole point of it all, wasn't it? To find those people who could be that someone.

And now, she had no one. Well, that wasn't true. Her mom. But as much as she wanted to break down into her mom's arms and tell her everything, she couldn't ever fathom endangering her mom by dragging her into a world of hunters and demons and werewolves. Telling her she birthed a banshee when her mother can't even fathom Twilight.

And there was Scott. Scott would risk his own safety for her and she would do the same. They have. They were great friends. But not best friends. He had loved Allison just as much as she did and she couldn't bear to hurt him by talking about her with him. Whenever Allison came up, you could tell his heart just lurched forward because he'd clear his throat and reach for Kira.

It was so typical, wasn't it? Jackson, Aiden, Allison and now Stiles. She needed them, for whatever reason, and they left her. God, what a selfish thought to lump Aiden and Allison with Jackson and Stiles. But she couldn't help but feel abandoned by all of them, in different ways. Allison and Aiden made her feel sad, irrevocably sad but Jackson and Stiles...that just made her feel angry. And she knew it made no sense, but what could she do about it? She was in pain. Lydia shook her head and wiped her eyes. She had two tests tomorrow and if she hurried, she wouldn't have to pull an all-nighter to study for both. Shaking, she place her key in the engine.

The car sputtered and died.

"_Shit_."

...

"It's not even that late" Malia complained with a yawn. Stiles chuckled. It was a quarter to midnight, which was pretty late but not late enough for Kira to be asleep and Scott on his way joining her.

"The only reason he's not asleep is because he likes looking at her." Stiles teased.

Scott gave him a look and a smile, confirming this statement. Scott had always been so helpless when it came to girls. He placed himself in the palm of their hand willingly. His phone rang softly, it was Lydia's ringtone. Stiles looked down at Malia, who'd been resting herself against his leg since the movie started. She looked up and caught his eye, smiling softly at him. He could understand the helplessness.

"Shit." he heard Scott exclaim. "Yeah. No, no, no it's okay- Lydia, no thank you for calling me. Don't worry-just breathe, nothing's gonna hurt you-I'm leaving right now. I just need gas-yeah, you're right sorry-just don't leave you car. I'll see you soon. Bye."

Scott started to leap out of the chair, but looked back towards Kira.

"What's going on?" Malia asked.

"Is Lydia okay?" Stiles said in a tight voice.

"Her car's dead." Scott tried to slip Kira's head on a pillow. "She's stuck in the graveyard and kind of freaking out. I have to go get gas and then pick her up."

"Oh." Malia said lazily. It wasn't long until she curled up and started snoring. His brain working towards the worst, Stiles watched as Scott tried to pry Kira off him without waking her. Because if she woke up, she'd worry about him. But she was also a tight cuddler and he was too gentle.

"It's not safe for her to be out there alone for any longer. I'll go." Stiles shot up and grabbed his wallet and keys.

"Stiles," Scott said gently. "I don't think that's a good idea. She said for me to come alone."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stiles said quietly. "Look, it's not that big a deal, I've been to the cemetery my fair share of times, I know how to get there. I just got a full tank of gas on the way over here. It'll be quick. You need to stay with Kira and Malia, in case something happens here. We'll be fine. Plus, a motorcycle going into a graveyard in the middle of the night is gonna alert some people."

"Let me take the Jeep then." Scott knew why Lydia called him instead of anyone else. He knew why she asked him if he could come alone. But he knew Stiles' mind was made up. "Just in case something bad happens."

"You'll hear if Lydia starts screaming." Stiles opened the door and left.

...

A banshee that couldn't stop feeling sorry for herself was now stuck in a graveyard, how fitting. She'd called Scott 7 minutes ago with the last 4% of her battery. Now she was down to 1% and he still wasn't here yet. She wasn't worried though. Scott always came through.

When she didn't hear the rumble of a motorcycle but instead saw the Jeep in her rear view mirror, Lydia wanted to vomit. She wanted to actually vomit. She grabbed for something, anything, that she could use to wipe her face but her red and puffy eyes still remained. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked out of her car. Grabbing her purse, she opened the door and wrapped her arms around herself. She walked toward the light of his Jeep slowly. She didn't understand how to feel. She almost walked past the passenger seat because she thought someone was already sitting there. She opened the door and tried her hardest not to slam it shut.

"Thanks Stiles. Where's Scott?" Lydia croaked, in a voice just as mean as she intended it to be.

Stiles swallowed his sarcastic retort and tried not to read too much into her icy tone: she was probably annoyed that he could tell the moment she walked out that she was crying or that he wasn't Scott. "It's nothing. He didn't have any gas and Kira was sleeping and he didn't want to wake her." Stiles said. "I volunteered."

"Oh." Lydia said. "And where's _she_?"

"_She's_ with Scott and Kira. She fell asleep too." he didn't bother playing dumb, he knew who "she" was when Lydia said it with so much venom. It was silent for a good minute. Stiles looked over at her, and she almost had her whole body facing the window.

"I can tell my dad about your car and we can get it tomorrow, by the way, free of charge." Stiles tried to get her to look at him, or at least turn around and face front.

"Thanks." her voice cracked and it was almost a whimper. Stiles felt like he was having an out-of-body experience all of a sudden. Lydia began sobbing and he had no idea what to do.

"Lydia, please don't cry." It didn't come out right. It sounded critical and harsh.

"I'm sorry." She wiped at her tears manically, like she had been all night. "It was just too much, seeing her grave. It's always too much."

"Then why do you go?" He cringed at how insensitive he sounded. He didn't mean to sound mean or anything, it just wasn't coming out right. What was wrong with him?

"I have to. I have to experience these emotions if I ever want to process my grief correctly. I can't just bury them and leave, like Isaac and Ethan did. And I don't have anybody I can truly lean on, like Scott. I have to face them head on," Lydia sniffled. "And that's what I'm doing."

Stiles couldn't shake what she said about not having anyone to lean on. He couldn't count how many times he'd been there for Lydia when no one else was, because those moments were infinite. It hurt, God, did it hurt to hear her say that.

"You have Kira and Scott and..." Lydia looked over at him as he took a pause. "and Malia's coming along, one day you'll have her. And you've always had me." He took the turn onto her street. Lydia bit her lip.

"Stiles. That's not true. Scott's got too much on his plate plus his own grieving. Kira's got Scott and being a kitsune to worry about. And by the time Malia begins to understand grief, I'll be the one dead. And you," she shook her head. "I haven't had you in awhile."

Stiles pulled to a stop in front of her house. She reached for the door, but he locked it.

"Stiles?" she asked. "Thank you for the ride but can you please unlock the door?"

"Why are you mad at me?" he ignored her.

"I'm not mad at you."

"Is it because of Malia? Is it because I'm finally interested in a girl that's not you? Isn't that what you've always wanted? What, is it because she's interested in me too?"

"No, fuck," Lydia swore. "I don't care about your coyote love connection, alright?"

"Then what the hell is it? Are you saying you can't depend on me, anymore? Because that's not even close to ever being true. And you want to know why? Because I've gone through hell and back for you and I would willingly do it again with absolutely no questions asked if you needed me to. Nothing's changed, except that I'm not trailing after you like a lovesick puppy. Isn't that what you want?"

"Nothing's changed?" she shook her head. Stiles watched her speak carefully. "You know, after the whole Jennifer thing, you used to be the guy I thought I could turn to when I was scared or nervous. And I don't know but every since the funeral, you've been avoiding me and I thought it's because since you've had your own grief to go over and you're not sure how to process it and I understand that. But then you just starting doting on Malia, and I couldn't help but feel...bad. Because I needed you. I needed your help with all these emotions because...I don't know because you're the one that keeps me grounded. And it's like you don't care."

"I'm here right now, aren't I?" Stiles offered weakly. "T-that's got to be something Lydia, because I can't do anything else right now. I know that I'm messed up and I'm sorry."

Lydia shook her head and smiled, amused at how stupid she was being. "I actually miss you, like you aren't here." she looked down at the ground. "And please, don't do anything stupid. It's not because you guys are dating or anything. You could marry Malia and have her half-genius half-coyote puppies and I would be a bridesmaid and a godmother if you want, I don't care. But I miss being able to talk to you about things that scare me because I feel so alone and I've never felt so alone in my whole life."

"I'm sorry." The apology laid between them, heavy with meaning.

"Open the door, Stiles." Lydia said slowly. "It's not your fault, I know its not your fault. It's just..." Lydia knew this issue wasn't finished. But she also knew that she and Stiles would be there forever and she'd fail (well, get an A-) her AP Calc quiz if she didn't find solace soon.

"Lydia." Stiles shook his head. "I'll never stop caring about you. After all we've been through, you kind of need to know that. After everything we've done... if I were to lose you, I'd..." he trailed off as his phone vibrated. Lydia sniffled. He answered quickly.

It was Malia. "Hey, Scott's called Lydia five times and she hasn't answered once. Tell me you have her."

"Dropping her off right now."

"I told him he had nothing to worry about. I trusted you."

"Really?" His voice bordered on the edge of awe. Something in the way they were talking to each otherwas so sweet, that it made her sick. Lydia gathered up her purse and reached across Stiles' lap to open the door. She tumbled out of the car. Stiles looked at her the whole way to her front door. Lydia did not have the strength to look back once.

...

The next morning, as Stiles reached the school, he saw her walking into school alone. And his heart lurched forward. He didn't know what was wrong with him. But it made him feel inconceivably sad watching her look hopelessly lost in a sea of people who she used to guide. And he knew joining her wouldn't help. He felt entirely useless.

The next morning, as Lydia left class, she picked up the test she just took. She got a 98. She was so frustrated after last night she didn't even bother with the extra credit, even though she probably would have gotten it. She walked out of class alone. God, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault. She would get over him the same way he had gotten over her with time. She'll find someone new. Not anytime soon. But there'll be someone.

But for right now that someone had to be herself.


End file.
